


Earth Angel

by LadyOutlier



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 08:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20043298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOutlier/pseuds/LadyOutlier
Summary: In which Crowley accidently miracles a love song for Aziraphale.(Based off a real song called "Earth Angel" that I would give a listen to before reading!)





	Earth Angel

Crowley didn’t spend much time across the pond. Didn’t matter much whether he wanted to or not. The fact was that he didn’t need to. Ever since the colonies broke off and forged their own path ahead (a path that was quite destructive to anything and anyone that wasn’t an ex-settler), they had done quite the good job of spreading evil into the world themselves.

  
For Hell’s sake, the Americans were doing Satan proud with their segregation laws. Dehumanizing people because of how much melanin was in their skin. Crowley thought it would be a real kick to let them all know that Adam and Eve had been black, but his lot probably wouldn’t be too happy with the miracle it would’ve taken to convince these stubborn Yanks that he was telling the truth. He didn’t much feel like outing himself as the demon that caused humanity to fall anyways.

  
Still, he wasn’t in much of a mood to be partaking in these backwards American habits, much like how he wasn’t all that interested in involving himself in the horror of the previous World War. Minus, of course, a small dip in with his angel friend. So he found himself in the most progressive diner in Los Angeles which wasn’t saying much with the segregated seating, bathrooms, and drinking fountains. 1954 America was a mess, and Crowley couldn’t wait to get out of it.

  
He wouldn’t even be having nearly as bad of a time if Aziraphale were here. But no, Crowley had lost the coin flip, and as their Arrangement stated, he was the one to go to America on both their behalves. It’s not that he hated the country. Rather it was a case of the wrong place at the wrong time. He actually appreciated the American spirit with their rowdiness and party-going nature. It’s just he wasn’t in the mood to enjoy it.

  
The location hardly helped either. Los Angeles of all places: the closest Earth had to a Hell of its own and the one place that literally translates to “The Angels.” Wasn’t he already homesick enough? He had a right mind to think this was all some sick practical joke She was playing on him. As if She hadn’t tormented him enough these past 6000 years with Aziraphale.

  
He didn’t even really understand what he was supposed to be doing over here. Something about inspiring a witch hunt, but that nonsense had burned out centuries ago. He would’ve thought it was just another case of Hell being behind the times, but they threw in some major keywords that’d shown up on almost every newspaper he came across. Some dickhead named McCarthy and this looming “Red Scare.” As far as Crowley could tell, nothing about the States seemed all that red or all that scary, but humans always made a bigger fuss of things than he did.

  
“Can I get you anything, dear?” A waitress pulled him out of his self-pity session. “Coffee perhaps? Or well, I guess you folks are more fond of tea, aren’t you?”

  
“Coffee’s fine.” He gave her a wide smile that all but added on: _Now, go away._

  
Truth be told, Crowley didn’t feel much like socializing with humans, well, ever, but specifically not today. What was the point of chatting any of them up when their short life spans meant they could croak before you’d get a chance to finish your thought?

  
Really, he wanted to head back to his hotel room and sleep until this McCarthy guy did something evil enough for him to be able to go home. And that’s exactly what he would’ve done if it wasn’t for the simple fact that he had to handle Aziraphale’s miracle as well.

  
Do general goodness. That was it. That was all he had to go off of. When he had expressed his annoyance to Aziraphale, he had just shrugged and said that _sometimes it was about finding where miracles were needed rather than where they’d be the most profitable_.

  
Couldn’t he have given him any tips? For Satan’s sake, he was a demon after all. Picking out where good was needed wasn’t exactly his expertise. Sure, he hadn’t _asked_ Aziraphale for advice, but a demon would think after 6 millennia he wouldn’t need to.

  
So he was stuck in this sorry excuse for a place to grab a bite, surrounded by these no-good Americans for Aziraphale. Er, well not _for_ Aziraphale. For their Arrangement. Which he purely posed for self-gain and not at all because he wanted a reason to see the angel more. Not at all that.

  
He was making a bigger fuss out of all this than he should have, and he knew this. Finding someone in desperate need of a miracle wasn’t all that hard. He could probably walk in any direction for less than a minute and find some poor homeless bastard that would consider even a week’s worth of wages to be the greatest miracle they could receive. Everyone needed something after all.

  
The problem was that Crowley was quite good at lying to himself. Well, not good at it. He had been failing to lie to himself about his feelings towards Aziraphale since the beginning of time itself. So deep down, he knew his difficulty with providing a miracle had absolutely nothing to do with him being a demon or with the company he found himself around. It actually had everything to do with the fact that he wanted to impress his angel. THE angel. Impress _the_ angel. Not his.

  
It was quite the internal conflict. His feelings of course, but also deciding on a miracle. What he wanted to do was snap his fingers and end this whole racism thing, but even if Hell didn’t figure out it was him that did it, Heaven would be pretty pissed at Aziraphale for abusing his powers. A bunch of bollocks, wasn’t it? That an angel could cause too much good. How stupid did that sound?

  
No, he had to find a way to do something that would make Aziraphale beam without completely redesigning this awful country. Something that would make Aziraphale look at him the same way he had back in 1941 after Crowley had saved his books. It was a once in a lifetime look -- well, a once in a 6000 years look -- that Crowley really wanted to see again.

  
Maybe he would just drown himself at a bar and start fresh tomorrow. It’s not like the atmosphere was doing him any good. The air was just not putting him in a good mood tonight.

  
Usually, that had never mattered. Aziraphale could make a war zone enjoyable. Not that Aziraphale was required for him to have a good time. But it did help. Or no, it didn’t. He got along perfectly fine on his own. Aziraphale was completely optional, and Crowley couldn’t care whether he was there or not! Yeah, couldn’t care less.

  
“Oi, hun!” he called to the waitress. “Why don’t you make that coffee something a bit stronger, yeah?”

  
The waitress gave him a nod and ducked into the kitchen.

  
Crowley sat up in his booth. Enough of the internal sob story. There had to be someone here that needed a miracle, right? The next Charles Dickens, or more likely the next Mark Twain, that he could help along on their path towards success. Aziraphale had been really fond of him throwing Shakespeare a bone back in the day, so he just needed a modern day literary genius he could do the same thing with. Simple.

  
The diner was a lot more lively than when he came in. He must have been lost in thought for quite a while. Businessmen sat at the counter reading newspapers with cancer sticks smoking from their lips. Crowley did wonder when humans were going to figure out that cigarettes weren’t all that healthy. Influencing them into breaking bad habits would count as a miracle but that was hardly all that special.

  
A group of teens were tucked into the corner, drinking milkshakes. What could he do for them? Help them with their homework? Point them in the direction of a good college? Yeah, boring. Wasn’t going to work.

  
Four young men sat over in the segregated section having a rather intense conversation. The two guys closest to the door were leaned over the table. One of them tapped on it as he spoke. Crowley figured a bit of eavesdropping couldn’t hurt. Plus, it was in his nature with the whole demon thing.

  
“Okay, how about this? _It’s you, you, you my dear. Always been you-ou-ou_.”

  
The one across from him shook his head. “Too much like The Ames Brothers. We need our unique sound.”

  
The first man sat back down against the seat, and the guy next to him spoke up. “Duncan, it’s not like either of us know that much about love. We both had, what? One date for all the school dances we went to back at Fremond?”

  
“But love songs are what’s popping. What the people wanna here!” The man now known as Duncan replied.

  
Crowley rolled his eyes and turned to look out the window. Funny that humans thought they knew anything about love when he still hasn’t figured it out in the whole time humanity has existed. Maybe they did know more about it than him. They had a good 60 or 70 years to figure it out before they’d have to deal with never knowing. Maybe that made all the pins click into place quicker.

  
He, on the other hand, wasn’t on much of a time restraint. Sure, there was the whole End of the World thing Hell was so dead set on rolling into action, but if he had to guess, that wasn’t going to occur for another millennium or two. Not really the same as a human that barely gets used to the world around them before needing to figure out the whole love thing.

  
All he knew was that he was indeed capable of feeling love which was something he didn’t know he could say about the other demons. If he couldn’t feel love, then why the Hell did Aziraphale make him–

  
Nope. That thought ends there. Not entertaining that at all. He was not going to think about any of that. Not about their first meeting in Eden where Aziraphale had surprised him not only by giving away his flaming sword but by also telling _him_ about it. Or about how Aziraphale was the only angel in all of Heaven that seemed just the tad bit concerned about drowning the human race. Or-or even about the little things like the bashful smile he’d oftentimes wear on his face. Or how his fun hobby of book collecting had turned into a full blown obsession. Or how he straight up refused to modernize because God damn it he had found something he liked and was going to stick with it. Of course, Aziraphale would never put it that way. Blasphemy and all. But the point still stands! And even just the way Aziraphale says his name. It was enough to make him forget he was a demon at times. And oh, oh in the name of Lucifer. He didn’t just do that, did he?

  
“Guys, if I haven’t just had a stroke of genius!” Now Duncan was the one leaned over the table.

  
One of the four passed by Crowley on the way back to his group. “What’s buzzing, cousin?” he asked, taking a seat.

  
“Got the song and it’s a real good one,” Duncan replied.

  
“Let’s hear it then.”

  
Just a coincidence. Surely he didn’t.

  
“_Earth angel, earth angel._”

  
Fuck.

  
“_Will you be mine?_”

  
Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  
“_My darling dear. Love you all the time_.”

  
“Hold up, Duncan. Let me write this down. It’s gold. The Penguins are going international!”

  
Yes, he had done it then. He had just accidentally miracled a love song. And an all too personal love song at that. God’s really got it out for him, doesn’t She?

  
If Aziraphale was here he surely would’ve said that Crowley’s mistaken miracle was _ineffable_, and if Crowley wasn’t too busy trying to conceal his embarrassment, he would’ve sneered in response because of course that’s what Aziraphale would say.

  
But the angel wasn’t here, and Crowley instead promptly left a wad of cash on his table and got up to leave. He’d most certainly overpaid, but who could be bothered to figure out American currency when the Americans couldn’t even be bothered to figure out equality? He’d count it as Aziraphale’s miracle anyway. The waitress could probably do with a bit of extra money.

  
As he left the diner, Duncan continued, “_I’m just a fool. A fool in love with you_.”

  
The door slammed behind him. Surely he had nothing to worry about. Yeah, he had accidentally given away 6000 years worth of secret emotions as inspiration to this band of musicians, but on the other hand, he had never even heard of The Penguins. They’d become a local phenomenon at best. Whatever this song was, it wasn’t going any further than Los Angeles. Definitely not past California.

  
He’d keep Aziraphale out of the whole country until the turn of the millennium just to play it safe. He’d rig their coin flips for future American assignments if he had to. As much as he wasn’t fond of coming back any time soon, he hated the idea of Aziraphale finding out about this song all the more.

  
He’d just blacklist the whole western hemisphere. Didn’t exist to him. Really, he didn’t even have to be this extreme! The song was NOT going to be popular!

  
*

  
When “Earth Angel” came out that following October, it definitely didn’t stay local. By the following year, all of America was spitting out Crowley’s love song. The Penguins were happy with their first, and to be only, Top 40 hit, but Crowley sure wasn’t.

  
It was an absolute nightmare, and though the song was still mostly American-based, Crowley had no plans of facing Aziraphale until he was sure it was dead. He’d wait another century if he had to, and perhaps he would have if the angel hadn’t approached him first in 1967.

  
When Aziraphale left him with a thermos full of holy water in his Bentley with the words: “you go too fast for me” still crisp in the air, Crowley wondered if he had heard the song after all. Even if he had, he wasn’t planning on asking.

  
Flash forward 42 years. The Antichrist was born. The End of the World came and sputtered out before it could really begin. An angel and a demon got comfortable in each other’s skin and were now faced with the rest of their lives without any sort of guidance. And when faced with infinite choices, they chose to continue what they already had been doing. 6000 years makes any habit hard to break.

  
While Aziraphale had always loved the Earth, he found himself appreciating it all the more post Armeggedon’t. Although it had been two months since Adam had quite literally told Satan that he wasn’t his real dad, it might as well have been yesterday as far as the angel was concerned. Two months was hardly a lot of time when one has seen the rise and fall of civilizations.

  
In his reawakened joy of the world, Aziraphale found himself outside his bookshop more often. The blues of the sky were brighter. The giggling of children was all the more heartwarming. Even the crisp, cool air of autumn felt refreshing. The Great Plan had been weighing him down for some time without him realizing it, and now, that weight was finally gone.

  
And after his and Crowley’s stunt, he was more-or-less free to do as he wanted. No more waiting to hear word from Above. Yes, Heaven likely wouldn’t leave him alone forever as Hell wouldn’t with Crowley, but for the time being they were radio silent. The freedom strangely felt more heavenly than Heaven itself.

The park was exceptionally lovely with the birds singing up in the treetops and the few remaining bees buzzing from blossom to blossom. He watched one particular bumblebee lazily land on a hydrangea.

  
If Crowley was here, he would have made some off hand remark about how he _couldn’t remember whether they were yellow with black stripes or black with yellow ones_. Aziraphale would’ve told him that he was _thinking of zebras_, and Crowley would say_ but they don’t have a hint of yellow on them_. Instead of further clarifying that what he meant was that zebras were the ones with confusion about their base color and not bees, he would say _quite right, dear boy_ and they’d keep on walking. But Crowley wasn’t with him today.

  
They had spent a lot of time together since the End of the World that Wasn’t. Hardly a day went by where Aziraphale didn’t see the demon. Other than when raising Warlock, which hardly counted because they couldn’t be themselves, they had never spent so much time together. It wasn’t uncommon for years to go by in between their visits. Perhaps the past eleven years had made him used to it. Aziraphale found himself quite fond of the recent companionship.

  
He smiled a half somber sort of smile to himself as he left the bumblebee. Crowley would also say that _this whole garden needed a good thrashing looking the way it does_. And Aziraphale would remind him that _it was fall after all and this is what happened to plants in the fall_.

  
Crowley was to be seeing him this evening where they’d clink a few glasses in the back of his bookshop. Still, Aziraphale wished that they had decided to spend this afternoon together as well. He did enjoy Crowley’s commentary on things. In fact, he had been enjoying everything about Crowley. Maybe now with how things were, that was okay.

  
Now that he wasn’t under the pressure to behave like a proper angel, he could pay a bit more attention to those feelings that had been swirling much more violently within him for the past 78 years. He and Crowley were on their own side now. There was no longer any ifs, ands, or buts about it. They only had each other to depend upon for the rest of eternity. Maybe this should have been a scary thought to Aziraphale, and not too long ago, it probably would have been, but now, it was more of a comfort than anything else. The rest of existence with Crowley was hardly a bad thing.

  
When he really looked back on it, Crowley had been the only one there for him in all his time on Earth. Whether he needed rescuing to keep his miracle numbers to quota or someone’s company over lunch, Crowley had oftentimes been there. He couldn’t say that about his fellow angels. Whenever he had seen them, it was strictly business. Crowley had proven himself as a friend, and although Aziraphale had denied it in the past, they were friends. And perhaps there was more to it than that.

  
There had to be a reason he would find himself lost staring at Crowley’s face or found himself taking a quick glance to the demon to read his thoughts on the situation. A reason for why he chose to sit beside him at a table rather than across from him. Why he’d catch himself smiling at the sight of Crowley without meaning to. The demon meant an awful lot to him. That much was certain. But how much. Now, that was an actual scary thought to think.

  
“..._angel. The one I adore. Love you forever and ever more._”

  
Well, that most certainly brought him back to his stroll in the park. What was, that is, who sang that? At such a—such an odd moment no less! He turned back to the source.

  
An eldery couple sat on a bench. A man holding a woman’s hands. He continued singing. “_I’m just a fool. A fool in love with you._”

  
Aziraphale cautiously approached them and, seeing that they were at a break in the song, spoke up. “Excuse me. I’d hate to interrupt such an intimate moment, but please, what is that song?”

  
The woman turned to him. “Oh, this was the song we met to. I was on holiday in America. Went to a party and this lovely man asked me to dance.” She kissed the singer on the cheek.

  
“Why that’s very lovely.” Aziraphale fumbled with his hands. “But what’s the name of the song? When-when did it come out?”

  
The man answered him this time. “‘Earth Angel’ by The Penguins. Was early on in their career because they never wrote a song like that again. Although I may be a bit biased.” He glanced to the woman and back. “Couldn’t have come out earlier than 1954 though. That’s when we met.”

  
“1954. America. Earth angel…” Aziraphale replied, becoming rather lost in thought. “Yes, thank you.”

  
As he walked away, the older gentleman picked his serenade back up. “_I fell for you and I knew… The vision of your love-loveliness. I hoped and I pray that someday… I’ll be the vision of your hap-happiness!_”

  
Just a coincidence, obviously. That—that this song would be sung as he passed by. And that this song would just so happen to have come into existence when Crowley was over in America. Just a coincidence that Crowley had been rather scarce on the details on what he had done over there even though he was usually a bit more thorough regarding the miracles he did on Aziraphale’s behalf. And it was nothing more than odd that he had been the one to next engage Crowley who then wouldn’t engage him again until the Antichrist was born. Just a strange set of events that only seemed to be related but weren’t.

  
He really wanted to believe that, but he was an angel, and when it was this obvious, he could tell when God had placed pieces in a certain order. It was entirely what he was thinking, and if he didn’t admit that it made his heart jump just the tiniest bit, well that would be a lie. Feeling were so much easier to admit when reciprocated.

  
*

  
Crowley met up with Aziraphale just like they planned. They had gone into the backroom where Crowley had noticed a new edition of a vintage record player. Odd, but he didn’t mention anything about it. Within the hour, he had completely forgotten all about it as he and Aziraphale finished off a bottle of Bordeaux wine.

  
“Crowley, I heard the strangest song today,” The angel said, swirling his glass.

  
“Really?” Alarms began to go off in the demon’s head although he didn’t exactly know why.

  
“Well, it was quite nice actually, but I found myself perhaps reading into it a bit much.”

  
“Yeah, how so?”

  
“You were in the States in the 50s, weren’t you? You were there for both of us.”

  
Ah, so that’s what the alarms were for. Crowley sat up, straightening his shirt. “I, uh, fail to see how that’s related.”

  
“This particular song is American and released a few months after your visit.”

  
“So?”

  
“I was wondering if you, perchance, had anything to do with its creation.”

  
Trapped. Completely and utterly trapped. Aziraphale had figured it out, and Crowley was not going to be able to talk his way out of this one. He needed some time. He hadn’t expected to ever actually have this conversation, and now, it was all moving too fast. Too fast, huh. Funny that.

  
“I uh hardly remember anything I did over there. America really was rubbish at the time. Just wanted to get our jobs done and leave.”

  
“It’s really sweet.”

  
“Say again?” He blinked rapidly. Fuck, where were his sunglasses when he needed them.

  
“The song. It’s really sweet.”

  
“Oh, then it must not have anything to do with me then.”

  
“I think that means it has everything to do with you.” Aziraphale smiled.

  
“Angel, how many times do I gotta tell you? Sweet, nice, good-hearted is absolutely as far from me as you get. I’m scary nightmare fuel. Black demon wings and snake eyes and—”

  
“Crowley, I love you too.”

  
That shut the demon up. In that short moment, Aziraphale’s heart fluttered, and he worried he’d gotten this whole thing wrong, and it really was a set of coincidences that led him here, but then Crowley spoke up.

  
“You really mean that? You’re not just throwing me some sympathy for making a fool out of myself?”

  
“Yes, I really mean that.”

  
Crowley stood up. A bit too quickly for the amount of alcohol in him, but he held his balance. “I’ve been wanting to hear you say that, angel, since the dawn of time.”

  
Aziraphale stood as well. “So, are you going to say it back then?”

  
The demon stumbled over to his angel and pulled him into his arms, breathing onto the back of his neck. “I love you so goddamn much.”

  
“Language, dear,” Aziraphale replied, wrapping his arms around Crowley as well.

  
“Oh, shut it.”

  
They stood like that for a while. Perhaps only a few minutes or perhaps hours. Perhaps long enough for the world outside to have become completely new. Just holding one another and making up for 6000 years of never embracing. It was a still silence, but not that of an awkward variety. The kind of silence that is more comfortable than anything else. A silence that let’s one know they are exactly where they need to be. One where they’re free to melt into each other and become one and let souls entwine in a never-ending dance that’s stronger than any marital bond. It felt like hardly a moment had passed when they finally pulled away.

  
“The song then?” Aziraphale asked.

  
“Yeah.” Crowley stared into his angel’s face as if it was his whole world which was hardly a jump from the truth. “It was one of mine.”

  
“Oh, well, would you like to dance to it?”

  
“Dance to it?”

  
“Isn’t that what songs are for?” The softest smile painted Aziraphale’s face. “For dancing to?”

  
“Suppose.” He couldn’t help but return the smile. “Do you even know how to dance to a song like that?”

  
“Modern dances aren’t that complicated. Nothing like they once were. Isn’t it little more than swaying back and forth?”

  
“Angel, only you would call a song from the 50s modern.”

  
“Relatively speaking, it is. So would you like to? Dance that is.”

  
“S’pose.”

  
Aziraphale snapped his fingers and a record appeared on the player. The disc spun, and the song began to flow. The two grabbed onto one another once more.

  
“Funny that Shakespeare thought he knew what star-crossed lovers were.” Crowley swayed as he laid his head on top of Aziraphale’s. “Romeo and Juliet? Pah. I’d say we’re a better example.”

  
“We have a happier ending too,” Aziraphale hummed from the demon’s chest.

  
“Always been a bigger fan of the funny ones.”

  
And they were silent once more, listening to a song that was little more than a happy accident. An accident Crowley most certainly no longer regretted. Eternity really wasn’t all that scary anymore. If every day was like this, he’d be just fine. He fell back into the lyrics his heart had written for his angel 65 years earlier:

  
“_Earth angel, earth angel_

  
_ Please be mine_

  
_ My darling dear_

_Love you all the time_

_ I'm just a fool_

  
_ A fool in love with you-ou (you, you, you)_”


End file.
